The old Taoist was seriously injured, with several wounds on his body. It seemed that he had applied medicine hastily and stopped bleeding, but it still looked creepy.
It was difficult for Feng Yijia to move him, change his clothes or bandage him, so he just found a mattress to put under him, covered him with a quilt, and lit a fire beside him to prevent him from freezing to death.
After the two wounded were roughly settled, Feng Yijia's stomach began to growl. She wanted to eat some dry food, but she also considered that the two patients needed to eat when they woke up.
He still ran to the collapsed kitchen ruins nearby and rummaged through them, found a usable iron pot, put it on the brazier, and boiled water to cook porridge.
Fortunately, the house is made of wood. Even if it collapses, the things will not be damaged much and it will be easy to find them.
It was completely dark, and the aroma of rice porridge wafted in the air. Meng Sheng didn't move, but the white-haired Taoist priest, who looked more seriously injured, woke up first.
He opened his eyes, looked around, and with trembling hands he took out a jade bottle from the pocket of his blood-stained clothes, poured out two pills, put them into his mouth, and swallowed them dryly.
After waiting for a while, his complexion visibly improved. He then struggled to get up from the ground, sat on the mattress, and called out to Feng Yijia, who was cooking porridge nearby: "Feng girl, where is your father?
Why didn't I follow you?"
The tone was not like that of a stranger meeting for the first time, but rather familiar, like that of one's own children or nephews.
It was indeed the man his father had mentioned. Feng Yijia looked at his kind and gentle face and didn't ask how he knew him. He just replied honestly, "He was looking after the house in the village. He didn't follow me into the mountains!"
The old Taoist raised his eyebrows slightly and asked doubtfully, "Can he guard the house now?"
Feng Yijia thought for a moment before understanding the implication of his words. He explained, "We're just watching to see if there are any thieves stealing things. If there are, we'll wait for us to get them back."
The old Taoist suddenly realized: "So that's how it is!
I thought he had some adventure after not seeing him for a few years!"
Feng Yijia was concerned about the still unconscious Meng Sheng, so she chatted with him about family matters. Seeing that the Taoist priest was in better spirits, she pointed to the side room on the right and asked, "Master Taoist, my husband hasn't woken up yet. Could you please help take a look at him?"
Upon hearing this, the old Taoist struggled to get up without saying a word and staggered towards the ear room.
Perhaps because he had grown older, his body had shrunk, and the old man was not tall, but very thin.
Plus he was injured, and he looked like he would fall down with a gust of wind.
Seeing this, Feng Yijia went up to help the man with a guilty conscience.
The house was not big. After a few steps, he arrived in front of Meng Sheng. The old Taoist bent down to feel his pulse, then took out a bottle from his pocket and handed it to Feng Yijia, saying, "It's good for the spirit. Dissolve two pills in warm water and feed them to him, three times a day. He will be fine after two days."
Let him sleep more, he will recover faster."
Feng Yijia happily took the bottle and felt completely relieved. He thanked Meng Sheng and his men were already preparing to feed him the medicine.
It is not easy to feed someone who is in a coma.
The old Taoist looked at her in a panic, wondering what he was thinking about, and sighed.
He turned around and went back to the other side room to change his clothes and apply medicine.
When the old man and the child finished their work and sat down again, they each held a bowl of porridge in their hands and slurped it with the pickles that Feng Yijia brought from home.
Outside, night fell and the cold wind blew through the winter treetops, making a teeth-grinding creaking sound.
In the room, orange-red flames jumped, sparking and crackling from time to time.
Paired with the porridge freshly scooped out in your hand, it warms your body and heart.
The old Taoist drank the hot rice porridge and looked at the girl on the other side of the brazier, whose face was reflected in the warm yellow light by the fire. He relaxed physically and mentally for a rare time and started talking about sex.
"Feng girl, guess who died outside?"
After he finished speaking, without waiting for anyone to respond, he continued, "He is my junior apprentice brother. We are both adopted children of the master. We have grown up together.
He has a great talent for cultivation, especially in martial arts, and has always been the best among our generation of disciples.
Therefore, he is too competitive.
Because my master asked me to inherit the Taoist temple when he passed away, he was very angry and took a lot of things from my master and rebelled against the sect.
That’s when the seeds of hatred were planted.”
Having said that, he paused, emotions swirling in his deep eyes. After a long time, he looked outside the dark house and said slowly: After the war, I experienced a lot of things.
We pursued different paths, and gradually we went from loving and supporting each other to being at loggerheads with each other, fighting to the death.
Compared to him, the only two things I am better at are formations and divination.
I just use my strength to break all methods. I have almost never won against him in the past."
"But I have the patience to calm down and plan slowly.
Finally, I won the last round." After he finished speaking, a smug smile appeared on his face.
Feng Yijia had lived two lives and had heard and seen many stories. He was not very interested in the love-hate relationship between his fellow apprentices, but he felt that his last sentence was a bit strange.
Before she could figure it out, she saw the Taoist priest opposite her put down his bowl, stand up, go into the bedroom, and take out a tattered, unremarkable cloth bag the size of a palm. He handed it to her with a pained look on his face: "Here, a storage bag. It can hold about ten square meters of things. This is my compensation to you this time!"
Hearing this, Feng Yijia understood. It turned out that all the thrilling events in the evening were planned by the Taoist priest in advance.
If you think about it more boldly and deeply, this room full of things, your own and Meng Sheng's rebirth... maybe everything starting from your father's death and afterwards were all part of this old man's calculations.
I just don't know if the old Taoist figured this out long ago and just went with the flow, or if he intervened at some point in the process?
Feng Yijia felt a chill in his heart and back, but he didn't ask any questions. He reached out and quickly took the bag from the person.
Meng Sheng must take what he got with his life.
As for the rest, the result is already like this, it doesn’t matter whether you ask or not.
Anyway, it seems that even she and Meng Sheng combined would not be a match for Lao Dao.
A sky-blue cloth bag, the opening of which was tied with a blue rope.
Feng Yijia untied the rope, pulled the bag opening and looked inside. It was indeed something from myths and legends. The area inside was much larger than what appeared on the outside.
She picked up the pickle jar on the table and put it in.
When the bag touched something, it seemed to grow larger by magic. After it was put into the jar, it returned to its original size. There was no sign of anything inside the bag on the surface, and the weight did not increase much.
Feng Yijia nodded with satisfaction, as long as the thing was real.
It was worth the risk they took.
When he looked at the old Taoist again, Feng Yijia's eyes became more complicated and indescribable.
Hit him with a stick and give him a sweet date. Hit him with another stick and give him another sweet date.
The key is that the stick is hard enough and the sweet dates are big enough.
As a result, when she faced people, she didn't know whether to resent or hate them, or to be grateful and thank them?
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